


The hero of Kazakhstan and the Russian fairy

by goldontheceilingg



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkwardness, But neither is Otabek, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Smut, Yuri isn't good with affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldontheceilingg/pseuds/goldontheceilingg
Summary: Takes place after the end of episode 12 In the short downtime before their next major competition, Yuri and Otabek start to explore their relationship. (Two boys with angsty tendencies, aggressive competitive streaks and severely lacking in communication skills try to juggle being friends, competitors and, eventually, boyfriends)(Heads up the Yuuri/Victor is background)





	1. Chaper 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how many chapters this is likely to be but I need to do something to fill the void left by this season ending SO here we are...  
> These two melt my heart and i feel like the world needs to see them breaking down each other's hard exteriors. The chapters will probably be lomger than this one but I just wanted to get the first one out there! 
> 
> Any plot suggestions are always welcome because god knows I never plan anything in advance anyway so working ideas in is super calm
> 
> That's all lol ty for reading xoxo

Yuri lingered in one of the arena's preparation rooms long enough to hear the hallway outside and, further on, the crowds leaving the rink, fall silent. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the muscle fatigue or maybe he was just overthinking everything but his entire body felt frozen to the spot. Letting out a shaky breath, he forced himself to relax; any minute now Yakov would likely burst through the door looking for him, screaming about interviews and fans and responsibilities. 

The thought of interviews had Yuri stiffening again, a scowl forming on his face as he glowered at the floor. He hated interviews, hated how he was forced to answer their dumb questions, how they always tried to get to talk about his feelings, open up about his emotions, how everyone always told him to act more friendly, more like Victor. At the thought of his former rinkmate he felt his brow furrow further. He gripped his fingers around the gold disc around his neck hard enough for his knuckles to turn white as he tried to figure out what the hell he was feeling. He'd just won a gold medal at his first senior Grand Prix Final; in theory he knew he should he happy - no, ecstatic - and yet here he was, alone, glaring at the walls of an empty room. Why was he still unsatisfied? Hadn't he made his point, proved to Victor that he made the wrong choice picking Yuuri instead of him back in Hasetsu? He had a gold medal, a world record, a place in the history books but... still...

Still he was frustrated. There were so many things that he was still so angry about he could barely keep them in line. He was pissed that Victor hadn't competed, that he'd instead chosen to waste his time on that pig, and even that couldn't help that fat idiot win the gold. He was equally irritated with Yuuri for the rumour that he was going to retire, couldn't fathom the other skater's laziness and lack of ambition. Mostly, however, he was annoyed with himself, and the way he'd felt when he saw his free skate scores and met a certain pair of dark brown eyes as he went into first and pushed the tall, dark and brooding owner of the aforementioned eyes off the podium. Yuri was not a stranger to winning shit. He was fully aware that winning was meant to make you feel good and triumphant and proud and vindictated, not guilty and hollow, even if only for a second. With a sigh, Yuri tilted his head back to rest against the wall he was leaning on to vacantly regard the ceiling. This is why he didn't make friends. If that even was what he and the Kazakhstani skater were. 

Lost in thought, the sound of the door being suddenly thrown open had Yuri jolting in surprise, hands shooting to his sides from where they had been tracing the edges of his medal. Registering the identity of the figure at the door Yuri furrowed his brow deeply in an attempt to combat the reflexive blush that appeared over his cheeks, gaze dropping to the floor. As usual, the expression on Otabek Altin's face was stoic and unreadable, though not exactly unfriendly. Unsure if he was imagining how long the following silence seemed to go on for, but needing to break the awkward tension he felt, Yuri cleared his throat and nodded stiffly at the older skater, hastily throwing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

"Yuri Plisetski, I knew you had the eyes of a soldier. Your skating was incredible," Otabek spoke, maintaining direct eye contact with Yuri though not moving from his place in the doorway. "I'm told you've now broken two records at this Grand Prix"

Yuri felt a defensive scowl form on his face at Otabek's straightforward compliments. "Two?" He gritted out as he fought back the aggressive blush that threatened to break out over his entire body. 

At his question, both of Otabek's eyebrows rose fractionally in what was one of the larest displays of emotion Yuri had seen from the Kazakhstani skater. 

"So you didn't know? Alongside the short program world record, you were the first to win gold in his senior debut Grand Prix. The press and your fans have been quite impatient to see you. So are Katsuki and Nikiforov."

Otabek didn't say anything further but Yuri read the question in his expressionless face without the other having to voice it: 'They're all outside waiting for you so what are you doing in here?' 

Yuri rolled his eyes at the mention of that pair of idiots and met Otabeks gaze momentarily before dropping it to stare at the ceiling again. 

"Right. I'll go out soon I just- dealing with Yakov, and the cameras..."

The older skater nodded shortly, as if Yuri had replied with an actual logical sentence rather than a nonsensical mumble, and seemed to consider his words for a minute before replying, 

"And what do you plan to do now? Go back to your home rink in Russia?" 

Yuri thought for a minute before nodding slowly, 

"Well the season isn't over, and the asshole Yakov isn't a fan of us taking long breaks from practice even after competition so... Though, now Victor's coming back he should keep Yakov busy so maybe he won't be on my back so much" 

Otabek nodded again, maintaining eye contact as he stated,

"Maybe I will see you there. If I am in a dip training with you Russians always helps to get me back on form," the Kazakhstani skater's mouth lifted, not enough to be called a smile on anyone, but in the context of Otabek Altin's face the equivalent of an ear to ear grin. "You know my instagram? I'll message you if I'm around your home rink. Keep fighting, Yuri Plisetski, next time I won't make it so easy for you." 

Watching the older skater turn and leave, Yuri felt the tension of guilt that had been subtly lingering in the back of his mind since he claimed first disappear. At the other's words, he felt a familiar competitive fire stoked inside him, stronger than ever now he had a title and a record to defend. Clearing his head of all his earlier thoughts, Yuri ran a hand through his hair and left the room, following the empty corridor to face everyone waiting outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's back in St. Petersburg and regrets ever coming to this rink of terrible people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be mislead by this lol updates will not usually be this frequent I just had the idea for this chapter and wanted to get it done soo
> 
> Enjoy!  
> Merry Christmas and god bless xoxoxo

"V-Victor!" 

"Yuuri, what's wrong~? I'm just helping you stretch"

"You can't put your hand there, we're in public!"

"But, Yuuri, I thought you liked it when I stretch you out nice an-"

"VICTOR!!"

Yuri scowled as he watched the Japanese skater blush aggressively as he slammed both hands over Victor's mouth. As if Victor wasn't irritating enough usually, he became ten times more annoying around his boyfriend, who was innocent and gullible enough to fall for it every time Victor baited him. Why was he even in St. Petersburg? Didn't he have a home rink of his own? Pissed off at having to witness the scene, Yuri sought out Yakov to complain about the intrusion. 

"What the hell is that pig doing here?"

Yakov glowered with a depth of annoyance that could only be achieved by someone who had coached Victor as long as he had before replying, 

"You know that idiot Vitya. He announces his return to skating and then refuses to come back to St. Petersburg unless Katsuki can come with him. Said something about still being his coach even though he's competing against him now. Also," - here Yakov's expression soured further - "said something about being too tactile for a long distance relationship" 

They both turned to the couple in question where, true to his word, Victor was copping a feel under the thinly veiled pretense of correcting Yuuri's form. 

"Why don't you send them both back to Hasetsu? They're triggering the gag reflex of everyone here when we're trying to practice!" 

"I wish I could but apparently the Hasetsu Ice Castle is undergoing refurbishment and extension after Yuuri's medal in the Grand Prix caused a new wave of interest in skating back in his hometown. Since Yuuri finished college he doesn't have anywhere to stay in Detroit so he can't go back to his old rink there so both of them are staying here for the foreseeable future. And for you, just because you beat his record in the short program it doesn't mean that you have nothing left to learn from Victor - he's still a more reliable and polished skater than you and you should respect his experience" 

Yuri rolled his eyes at the familiar lecture, "My respect for that senior citizen disappeared when I found out he was going out with the pig"

Yakov's reply was cut off by a loud scrape of ice nearby as Victor perfectly executed a quad flip, triple Lutz combination, turning and blowing a kiss at his boyfriend who was watching in awe. Satisfied that his point had been proven, Yakov raised his eyebrows in response and walked away. Yuri felt his mood fall further as he glared between the two of them. Did they really have to flaunt their relationship so obviously? Angrily he tied his hair into a ponytail and then leant forward onto the edge of the rink as he pulled one of his legs into a stretch behind his head. He was pulled out of his moody reverie as the stretch suddenly increased and he turned his head to see Mila behind him. Although her hand was on his foot firmly pressing it further forward, her eyes were locked on the couple in front of them, currently attempting to skate one of Victor's old programs modified to be a pair's routine. Apparently they had decided to forgo all pretenses of serious training for the day. 

"They are so adorable. I would kill for a relationship like that," 

Mila adjusted her gaze to Yuri, who cast an entirely unimpressed look back at her and tried not to let the increasing burn of the stretch show on his face. He snorted derisively, unwilling to warrant her comment with any other response. Mila squinted at him, searching his face for some unknown emotion.

"What's with that attitude? You look even more pissy than usual and that's quite the achievement. Jealous?"

"I'm not- Will you get your damn hand off my leg you hag you're gonna tear something! Don't you have someone else to harass?" 

Yuri shoved her hand away and put his leg down, turning away from the conversation to look back towards the rink and stretch his quads. Seeing in his peripheral vision that Mila wasn't moving away, in order to prevent further conversation Yuri pulled out his phone and scrolled through his instagram feed while he continued stretching. Immediately he began to regret the decision as his phone was filled with photos of that conceited fuck JJ. The Canadian abused instagram more than any person Yuri had ever seen, seemingly unable to go more than 2 hours without posting. As Yuri was mentally debating whether to unfollow the Grand Prix bronze medallist (pros: no more JJ selfies, cons: next time they met the Canadian would whine until he followed him again anyway), a notification popped up that made Yuri suddenly straighten up. 

otabek-altin: coming to st p next week   
otabek-altin: train together for old times sake?

YurI felt his mind blank out. Otabek was actually coming here? Was he trying to scout out the competition? Even as the thought crossed his mind, Yuri knew that wasn't the reason. Otabek was straightforward, and he didn't have a tendency to, nor did he need to, resort to underhanded or secretive tactics to compete. Which meant that he was coming to see Yuri? As... a friend? Yuri's preoccupation gave Mila opportunity to snatch the phone from his hand, glancing down the messages. Her eyes widened as she realised who the sender was, 

"Is this the skater Otabek Altin? The one from Kazakhstan? Damn he is hot! Yuri, I didn't know you were friends with him - you could get me his number! Wait, no, send a photo and give him my number. Don't want to come on too strong" 

Yuri felt himself blush and frowned aggressively, elbowing Mila until she let him take his phone back. 

"I'm not doing fuck all, I'm not your matchmaker you annoying hag" 

Mila turned towards him to continue her attack, pausing when she saw his face. Narrowing her eyes, she scrutinised him thoroughly before proclaiming;

"You agree"

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as she continued,

"You think so too, don't you. You think he's hot. Yuri, you have a crush don't you~" 

Mouth open in stunned defiance, Yuri could only splutter incoherently as more blood found its way to his face in response. Eventually, he got tired of looking at Mila's delighted smirk and turned on his heel, walking in the opposite direction. He hated his fucking rinkmates. 

As he unlocked his phone, he noticed there was one more message in the conversation than the last time he'd looked. Fucking Mila.

yuri-plisetski: of course I'll be happy to show you what it takes to win gold ;)

He really fucking hated his rinkmates.


End file.
